Johto Takeover
by AnonOrange-FFA
Summary: The Executives have one hell of a job ahead of them in Johto. They need to evade the law, look after Silver, and prevent Proton from becoming a danger to himself or anyone else. In the end, though, it's Proton's idea that kick-starts their mission in a new region.
1. Chapter 1

'Petrel,' a voice cooed into his ear. 'I need a favour. Just a small one.'

'I'm listening,' he replied, already knowing what the favour would involve. Ariana, leaning over the back of the couch, was using the tone she reserved for only the biggest of favours. Her voice was low; privacy was unheard of in the Goldenrod apartment.

'The boy's in his room.'

'How long?'

'We'll only be half an hour.'

'We?'

'We. Half an hour. Be _in _the room with him if you have to.'

'I can't do more than half an hour on my own.'

'Don't expect you to,' she said, pressing a small kiss of thanks on his temple. 'You, with me,' her voice, suddenly sharp, caused Archer to raise an eyebrow. He followed her out of the apartment and down the hall, into the elevator and out onto the street. She didn't speak until half a block later, three minutes of their half hour already gone.

'What do we do when we can't control him anymore?'

'Silver?'

'Proton.'

'Well, that explains why we needed to leave to have this conversation,' Archer said slowly, thoughtfully. He hadn't planned on being the one to bring up the recent behaviour of his fellow Executive, although he felt uneasy now that Ariana had done just that. 'Main concerns?'

'Our plans. The boy. Our mission. Proton himself.'

'In that order?' he noticed Ariana purse her lips at his question, forced to lay out her priorities.

'The boy, mission, plans, Proton.'

'Not surprising.'

They were still walking. Ariana had made no plans further than getting out of the apartment and Archer, unsurprisingly, was following her lead. Walking was the most logical move since it gave fewer people the opportunity to overhear their conversation.

'He needs busywork, and soon. I want him out of the apartment. Fieldwork. Not Grunt work, he'd see through that before you finished giving him the orders. We've seen him like this before and we know where it goes. He's been skinning Rattata for weeks.'

'Why didn't you tell me?'

'I thought you knew.'

Archer shook his head. The problem with hearing about that from Ariana was not the act itself, but the fact he had not been the first to notice. It meant that Proton was changing his routine, just slightly, just enough to throw Archer off his trail. It meant that somehow, hiding behind their cramped living conditions and eighteen hour workdays, Proton had slipped back into his old habits, unnoticed, unchecked.

'He's useless to us like this.'

'Hardly,' Ariana said. 'He was hired for a reason.'

'Brains. I've been willing to bet for years that he's the smartest of us all.'

'That's his downfall. He's smart, but cruel. Gio hired him for the cruelty, it was effective back in the early days.' She spoke slowly now, her words carefully chosen. 'Very effective. But his brains? They're his downfall, nothing else.'

'How?'

'Boredom comes easily. We work constantly, but he's still bored. Archer, he's working on autopilot.'

'No, he can't be.'

'He's efficient. Convincing. He finishes the most complicated tasks in half the time it would take the rest of us. He needs something big, something that will grab his attention.'

'Like what?'

'I don't know.' Ariana stopped walking then, Archer by her side. Something in a store window had caught her eye but he was lost in a sea of thought, struggling to come up with a task that could capture Proton's imagination.

'What about the boy?'

'What about him?'

'What do you want for him?'

'I..,' she faltered there, unable to respond. 'I need him safe.'

Need. Not want. She needed Silver to be safe more than she needed to believe that Giovanni was coming back for them.

'Proton won't be left alone with him.'

'How long until he tries something? He's got no chance if Proton comes at him with a knife,' she said. Not for the first time, Archer noticed a slight waver in her voice.

'None of us would.'

'The boy's only nine. You know as well as I do Proton could slit his throat before he even realised he was there.'

'What do you want for him?' Archer repeated the question. She hadn't provided him with any answers. Ariana started walking again.

'Who are you asking?'

'You know who I'm asking.'

'Archer,'

'You were what, twenty one?'

'…yeah.'

'Why didn't you leave? If you wanted the best for him you could have left, you could have gone to Hoenn or Unova, given him a proper life. Not this.'

'Don't you tell me what would have been best for him. Why did you join?'

'Power,' he said, hesitating only so his response seemed spontaneous.

'You had power from day one. Absolute control over your faction of Grunts. But while you were busy with them, I'd fallen into the most powerful position I've ever been in. Gio was the boss, and suddenly I had pull over him? Why would I leave that behind?'

'And now you're struggling to protect him from all this. No one outside the organisation knows he exists, no one would recognise him, or kidnap him. No authorities, anywhere, are looking for a child. You're protecting him from the only people he's ever known. What's that going to do to him?'

'I don't _know_,' she seethed, mood suddenly shifting as Archer overstepped his boundaries. 'All I know is that I want Proton far, _far_ away from my son.'

'We need a project for him,' Archer said, changing the subject and moving them down the street at a slightly faster pace; Ariana's outburst had caused a few passers-by to look up from their shopping. 'A large scale operation with minimum impact. We can't give him anything that will impact on our mission if he fails. It's designed to keep him occupied, but he needs to think he's helping.'

'I've got nothing,' she sighed. 'Until we find something, I want you or Petrel with him at all times.'

'Silver?'

'Yes. I mean it. You'll sleep in his bedroom. Petrel on the couch. I don't want to give Proton the chance to even entertain the notion.'

Archer nodded at her requests. Part of him felt she was overreacting. Proton had always been this way; until he started vivisecting Aipom in the kitchen, they didn't need to worry. But the other part of him – the majority, in fact – wondered what it would take for him to snap, and that was something they did not want to deal with.

'Ariana?'

'Hm?'

'Who are we supposed to be protecting?' Archer knew that she was protecting Silver. She'd listed Proton as the least of her concerns. But if she wanted him gone, out of the way, she would simply leave an anonymous tip with the police. The fact was, as much as she wanted to leave Proton out to rot, they'd all been through too much together to even consider doing that to him. She slipped an arm through his while they walked, refusing to give an answer that they both already knew. 'I don't know if he's coming back. I don't know if he'll hear us even if we succeed. We're at least a year from takeover.'

'He'll hear.'


	2. Chapter 2

'Proton, five minutes. You're out for the week,' Archer barked his orders only moments after he and Ariana walked back into the small apartment. She had slipped past him in the doorway, eager to check up on how the previous half hour had played out in her absence.

'Why?'

There it was, clear as day. Boredom. Proton didn't even look up from scraping a mysterious substance from underneath his fingernails. Three small daggers were firmly wedged into the wall opposite, each entry point only millimetres apart.

'We're starting small. Local. I need a detailed report of Ilex through to the far end of Union Cave. Anything useful, hidden chambers, old houses, you name it. I want it reported and mapped. Every last fucking inch of it, you got that?'

'Yeah, yeah,' Proton stood up then, moving for the daggers. 'A week?'

'Back by next Thursday. Report on Friday.'

'Fine,' he said coolly. 'What's the catch?'

'No catch. Get it done.'

Archer should have known what was coming next. He should have been prepared but his mind was somewhere else; his first mistake. Proton had him pinned to the wall effortlessly and there was no point fighting it. Archer tried to look bored, but found himself unable to push past shock. Proton noticed.

'What's the catch, _Boss_?' he cackled, dagger scraping along the skin protecting Archer's jugular.

'Back by Wednesday. Report still in on Friday.'

'Where's my shit?'

'Where you fucking left it.'

'Which is?'

'Top shelf, front bedroom.'

'Thanks, _Boss_.' Proton flashed his trademark grin – the one accompanied by dead eyes – and stepped away from the Head Executive. The only damage done was to Archer's chin, a small nick from the dagger no bigger than a shaving mishap. He stayed against the wall, arms folded over his chest, waiting for Proton to emerge from the bedroom with supplies for the week.

'Full maps. Full reports. I want every last fucking rock overturned.'

'I already said, yes _Boss_.'

'Good. Get out, Executive.'

'Fuck you too, Archer.' Proton said, surprisingly upbeat as he left the apartment. The door slammed behind him.

Archer slumped until he was crouching, head resting in his hands. He ran a thumb over the cut, the already dry blood flaking off at his touch. He ran his hands through his hair and stood up, then moved to lock the door from the inside. It wasn't until then that he realised he could feel his heart, still beating far too fast. There was no way to tell how the week would play out. It was his job to make the tough decisions and Ariana had forced him to make one of the most difficult yet. Sending Proton out into the field, alone, for a week would yield results. But while he had ensured his fellow Executives their safety, he had put a much wider audience at risk. Archer finally let his hand fall from the lock as he began to move down the hall.

'He's gone,' he said, leaning casually against the doorframe to Silver's bedroom. Ariana was sitting on the bed with the boy beside her, while Petrel stood just inside. Archer frowned as he reached over, forcing him to look up.

'Him?'

'Yeah, just playing.' Playing. There was no other word to describe what Proton had been doing only minutes earlier. Archer had no idea what he did to the Rattata before skinning them alive, nor did he want to know until he had no other choice. He swatted Petrel's hand away. 'What now?'

'I'm not sharing my room,' Silver spoke up then, lifting his head from Ariana's shoulder. He wore Giovanni's scowl.

'Well, the Boss-man says you have to,' Petrel said, gesturing to Archer with his thumb.

'He's not my boss.'

'He kind of is.'

'So I'm kind of in Team Rocket? Where's my Pokémon?'

'Smart ass.'

'Stop encouraging him,' Archer said, interrupting before either of them could get carried away. He looked to Ariana for help, but she was mindlessly running her fingers through Silver's hair as she stared out the window. Lost in thought, he realised. No, planning. Her forehead only creased when she was struggling to come up with an answer to a problem. 'Not my idea, kiddo.'

'I don't want to share my room,' Silver repeated. Surely Ariana would hear him. She had fought the others to get him his own room in the first place. Two small bedrooms could not comfortably accommodate four adults and a child. She had argued with Archer, with Petrel, had slapped Proton, hard across the face, to get him his own room. She wouldn't let Archer take that away.

'Sorry, baby. Things change.'

'I hate you all!' Silver shouted, unable to think of anything else to say. He dove off the bed and raced for the door, but was stopped by Archer reaching and grabbing him by the waist. 'I hate you, I hate it here, I want to go home, or outside more, I hate it!' He was screeching by then, his small fists hitting anything he could reach as Archer held him off the floor. Ariana stood up when he nodded, indicating his next move. He waited until the boy had stopped thrashing about so much, stepped forward, and dropped him back onto the bed. Silver picked up the pillow and dragged it over his head, curling into the wall.

'Baby, come on.'

'Go away!'

'No.'

'Go away!' His voice was shrill.

'Baby we need to talk about this properly, so you know why we're changing our minds.'

'Because you hate me and you hate it here like I do but you wish you'd left me in Saffron City!'

'Never,' Ariana said. She was sitting beside him by then, rubbing small circles on his back. 'Stop being silly and let us talk to you like a grown-up. We're all going to tell the truth this time, you're old enough.'

'Really?' It was muffled, but it was a response.

'Yeah,' she said. Petrel bit his lip to stop from laughing as she shook her head, giving the two men her most vicious glare. Silver sniffed and sat up, slowly, pressing his back into the corner. 'It's really important that you listen, and you don't argue anyone with this one, okay?'

'Okay,' he agreed after a brief hesitation.

'Archer's going to sleep in this room from now on. We're not sure, but we think someone from Kanto _might_ have found out about you and we want you safe,' Ariana said, her voice sweeter than Sinnoh honey. 'You know we want you safe, don't you?' Silver nodded. 'And you do trust Archer as much as me?' Another nod. 'Good boy. We'll bring one of the other beds in here, and it'll be a bit more cramped but you'll be safe.'

'Why are they looking for me now? We haven't lived in Kanto forever. What if they find me?'

'They won't. And if anyone tries to hurt you, baby, they'll pay.' Ariana watched his face as he accepted her words. It almost broke her heart lying to him, again, but she was nothing if not determined to keep him safe.


	3. Chapter 3

'Why are you doing that?' Silver asked in between mouthfuls of rice. Petrel took another drag on his cigarette, exhaling in the direction of the open kitchen window.

'Don't start, bad for you.'

'Why are you mad at me?'

'I'm not.'

'You're being a jerk today.'

'Shut up and eat your dinner.'

Silver scowled but did as he was told; everyone had been barking orders at him all day, as if he were a common Grunt. He had been ready to complain to Ariana that morning about Archer, but even she had dismissed him with a sharp 'go to your room'. Petrel had been following him around the apartment for hours, only leaving him alone long enough to go to the bathroom. Silver watched as he held the cigarette between thumb and pointer finger, exhaling small clouds of smoke. He hadn't made rings for days.

###

Archer could see the kitchen from his place on the couch. Petrel's expression gave away his anxieties, his posture even more so. He hadn't sat up so straight, so alert, since the old days. Beside him, Ariana was inspecting her nails for flaws. His attention shifted back to her.

'It might not be bad.'

'He's been gone almost a week. It's going to be bad.'

'What if it is?'

'I don't know. You don't know. You know we won't know until he shows up,' Ariana said. 'He gets the same story Silver did.'

'Kanto?' He asked. She nodded. 'How long do we keep him here for?'

'Depends what his reports say. I want him to have a new project by Sunday.'

'We're trying to do too much as it is. We could use him here.'

'No. For now, he's in the field. He covers his own tracks. We keep him here and he's more likely to get bored.'

'Who's bored?'

The two Executives stopped their conversation abruptly when Silver spoke. He was hanging over the back of the couch, looking rather bored himself.

'No one.'

'Why has everyone been so mean today?'

'We haven't meant it, baby, we've just been working hard lately.'

'You're talking about Proton, aren't you?'

'No, baby, just go finish your dinner,' Ariana said, reaching up to straighten out the boy's hair. 'Go on.'

'Did he kill a person?'

'What do you mean?'

'He kills Pokémon all the time, he told me. Did he kill someone?' Silver was still hanging over the couch as he asked the question. Ariana noticed, for the first time, how tired he looked. Archer had said the boy hadn't been sleeping well since they'd talked to him a few days earlier.

'What do you mean he told you? When?'

'I dunno,' Silver shrugged. 'He always told me.'

'What do you mean?'

'He just told me about how he did things to them. Like this one time he caught an Oddish and he kept it in the bath and pulled off its leaves and some other stuff.'

'Like what, baby?'

'Just stuff.'

'I need to know a bit more than that.'

'I can't tell.'

'Why?'

'Because he'll do the same thing to me. He said.'

'He won't, baby, just tell me,' Ariana said. Archer stood up from the couch and started walking in the direction of the kitchen. He paused long enough to lift the boy up and over the back of the couch; Silver didn't protest.

'No,'

'Why not?'

'Because, he'll…'

'_Is it asleep?' Silver asked, his eyes wide. He sat on the closed toilet with his knees drawn up close to his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around them. He knew better than to ask questions, even at five years old. Proton dumped the unconscious Mankey into the bath and stepped in beside it. _

'_Something like that.'_

'_Is it dead then?'_

_Proton didn't reply. Silver watched his face, only his face, trying to work out what his expression was. He wasn't happy. He was kind of smiling though, like his father did when something went right. He wasn't anything, really. Silver didn't have a lot to compare the expression with but it looked like his own when Petrel tried to teach him things. _

_The boy put his chin down on his knees and blinked, his eyes not leaving the Admin, not even when he finally selected one of his knives. It wasn't even a knife, Silver realised. It looked more like something he'd seen people use for cutting down trees. It wasn't the first time Proton had locked him in the bathroom while he did this, but it was the first time it had been a Mankey. He watched, trying not to look or feel as sick as he did. His eyes never strayed because if they did, it would be something else next time. It was a Mankey because he'd been sick the time Proton had snapped back a Raticate's ribs. Silver still dreamt about the mess that had made. He swallowed. _

_His stomach churned when he heard the Mankey screech, but even that faded as the minutes passed. He watched the Rocket Admin, he watched the whole thing. Proton eventually motioned to him to step forward, like he always did. Silver swallowed again, but stood up, and took the garbage bag with him. As bad as the Raticate had been, the Mankey was worse. All Silver saw was red. The tub, Proton's hands, his feet, the Mankey's fur, everything. He held the bag open, like he was told, for Proton to fill with the Mankey, chunk by chunk. _

'He'll what, baby?' Ariana asked, running a hand over Silver's forehead; he'd gone pale.

'Shout a lot, I dunno. He's not even mean like Archer. He's mean differently.'

'How?'

'He just is,' Silver shrugged again. Proton had taught him one of the only lessons he'd ever listened to diligently – some secrets were never meant to see the light of day.

'Okay, go get ready for bed and I'll come in and see you in ten minutes.'

'Can I have Houndoom tonight?'

'Sure baby,' Ariana said as Silver ran off, back through the kitchen to his bedroom. She heard footsteps then, heavier than a child's. Archer returned to his place on the other end of the couch while Petrel took up residence on the arm behind him.

'Did he spill?'

'Nothing specific,' she sighed. 'I need time to think.'

'We don't have time,' Archer said. 'It's after eight. He'll be back by ten.'

'I need time to fucking think, Archer!' Ariana snapped. 'Send Houndoom with Silver. That'll do until later.' Archer complied; Houndroom, released from his Pokéball, scampered off to his post. Petrel tapped his cigarette so the loose ashes fell to the carpet. She stared at him, eyes burning, and although he could see holes in the wall behind her from Proton's knives, he stood up to find an ash tray.

'We go to bed early and deal with him in the morning.'

'No,' Archer dismissed Petrel's suggestion. 'You two sleep. I'll deal with him.'

'Why you?'

'It's my job,' he said. Ariana gave a small nod, but Petrel shook his head slowly as he took a long drag on the cigarette.

'If I may?' He waited for Archer's approval before continuing. 'Ariana, with Silver. Archer, working in here. I'll be working in the kitchen. If you're fine, you're fine. If you're not, I've got a clear line of sight.'

'Fine. You might as well get some work done while you're doing that. Finish your report on Goldenrod.'

'Deadline?'

'Friday.'

Petrel nodded and moved from his place against the wall. He took the ash tray with him into the kitchen and the others waited for the noise of his chair scraping along the floor before continuing their conversation.

'You're sure?'

'Yeah, go. We'll be fine.'

Ariana stood up and ran a hand along Archer's shoulders as she passed, a small gesture to convey her thanks. She nodded to Petrel as she walked through the kitchen and back to Silver's bedroom. Houndoom, curled up with his head on Silver's lap, gave a low warning growl when the door clicked open.

'Oh shush,' she said, closing the door behind her. 'What's wrong, baby?'

'You're all acting weird,' Silver replied. Ariana watched him scratch Houndoom's ears; the Pokémon was as large as he was, and weighed more. 'Why are you scared of Proton?'

'We're not, don't be silly.'

'You are. Even Archer, and I've never seen Archer scared before.'

'We're just being careful, Proton's not the nicest guy when he's mad.'

'I know.'

'Baby, look at me,' Ariana said. She was sitting down on the second bed by then; the room was so small that it left only just enough room for her legs between them. 'What do you know that you're not telling me?'

'Nothing.'

'You need to tell me or else I can't fix it.'

'Nothing's broken,' Silver said. He shifted so that he was lying down, wedged between the wall and Houndoom. She sighed then, and lay back on her own bed. She closed her eyes, just for a minute, just to get a few minutes of rest before their world came crashing down again.


	4. Chapter 4

Archer was a man who had made many, many mistakes in his life. Sometimes he was unsure if joining Team Rocket was his biggest accomplishment, or biggest mistake. His early years with the organisation had been fraught with errors, one after the other some days. He had left a trail of them in Kanto, which had led to the fall of the Silph occupation, and, in turn, caused Giovanni's disappearance. Regardless of all these mistakes, most of which kept him up at night, there were small indications that the ramifications for this mistake were going to be the worst of all. He woke to a familiar scent, one of soil, tin, and sweat. If there was ever a time to choose his next move carefully, this was it. He lay still on the couch, eyes still closed, unable to decide when to open them. He wondered what time it was, where the others were, how long Proton had been straddling him, waiting for this moment. He had no idea if he was bleeding, if the Executive had seen his assignment as a waste of time.

'Open your _fucking_ eyes, I know you're awake,' Proton hissed. Archer, not in a position to fight back, granted the request.

'Executive,' Archer said in greeting.

'Shut _up_, I've got your fucking report.'

'I want it in writing.'

'Fuck you,' he spat, fingers twitching. Archer had no idea where the knives were or what direction they were going to come from. 'There's fuck all in Ilex, fuck all in Azalea. There's fucking nothing in that fucking cave.'

'So, your report is going to say 'fuck all'? Nothing else?'

'Shut the _fuck_ up!' It had been a bad idea to say it, Archer realised, but he hadn't expected Proton to backhand him across the face.

'What do you want?'

'I've got an idea, and it's a fucking good one,' Proton started. 'You're going to listen to it, and then you're going to agree that it's a fucking great idea. And after that, we'll see.'

'Fine. Your idea, Executive?'

'Well, _Boss_, outside Azalea there's this well,' he paused to lean forward, reaching over to collect one of his knives from the couch arm. 'And this well, this fucking well, is infested with Slowpoke.'

'Your idea?'

'Quiet,' Proton glowered at him, letting the knife at Archer's throat do most of the talking. 'Basic operation. Takeover, steal, profit. Find another location for the profit.'

'Profit how?' Archer certainly was intrigued by the idea. He tried to ignore the blade scraping along his neck.

'Slowpoketails.'

'What?'

'Each one costs a small fortune to buy on the black market. We drop the price, sell thousands.'

'An interesting idea. I need to sleep on it.'

'No you don – who else is awake?' Proton snarled, the blade digging in when he heard a door open. 'Don't even_ fucking _think about it.' He moved quickly then, standing up to jump over the back of the couch; Archer didn't even hear his feet hit the ground. His hand shifted to his neck; no blood. His face, however, was a different story. He tipped his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose to stem the bleeding.

The idea was no doubt a good one, and he was almost willing to grant permission to begin the operation tomorrow. He sat up, swinging his feet to the floor – he looked down when he heard something rustle. A bag. Not the kit Proton had left with, that was discarded across the room. It was just a bag, a regular black garbage bag. He reached for it, fingers fumbling with the knot; he needed to know what was inside, and soon. Then, suddenly, a screech, loud and familiar.

###

By the time Petrel reacted to the noise, Silver was already trapped firmly against the wall by the neck. Proton had him just off the ground, forcing him to stand on his toes.

'What did you hear?'

'I just had to go to the bathroom!'

'What did you fucking hear?!'

'Nothing!'

'Tell me!'

'Nothing!'

'Stop lying!' Silver gasped between panicked breaths as Proton held one of his knives – _one of those knives_ – against his cheek. Proton pushed up, so his toes were barely skimming the floor. 'What about now?'

'Nothing! Just,' he coughed, 'just Petrel snoring! Let me go!'

'You're _lying_!'

'I'm not!'

Proton's ears pricked when he heard footsteps. When he saw who it was, he grinned. Petrel stood five feet to his left, hesitant to move any closer. Ariana was to his right, closer, but frozen in place. Archer was nowhere in sight. He ignored them, returning his attention to the hysterical child.

'Stop it, or you know where this goes,' he threatened, the knife digging in a little. Silver stopped struggling, his small hands gripping Proton's wrist to hold himself up. He nodded, slightly, as best he could. He coughed again, tears dripping to the floor.

'I… I'm not lying,' he hiccoughed, 'I don't lie to you, I promise. Not since then! Never since then!'

'Good. Scram back to bed like a good little boy,' Proton spat. His grip loosened and Silver fled. Petrel made the first move while Proton was occupied waiting for the bedroom door to slam, lunging forward and grasping his wrist tightly; the knife clattered to the floor as fingers dug deep into the tendons of Proton's forearm.

'The fuck are you doing?' Proton snapped as Petrel twisted his arm behind his back, leading him through to the kitchen.

'Sit down and shut up,' he threw the youngest Executive into one of the chairs. For the first time that night, Proton complied.

'I'll take care of this,' Ariana said sweetly, 'you go help Archer.'

'You sure?' Petrel asked, eyeing Proton. He looked ready to boil him alive.

'Of course,' Ariana smiled, and in that smile Petrel saw the next ten minutes unfold. Proton didn't stand a chance. He nodded, and left the room. She circled him, coming to a stop behind the chair. 'You're absolutely filthy.'

'The _Boss _sent me to the field for a week. What do you expect?' Proton folded his arms across his chest, taking the defensive.

'Is that blood?'

'Probably.'

'From what?'

'It's probably mine.'

'For each lie you to tell me in the next ten minutes,' she continued, her voice as sweet as ever. 'I'm going to break one of your fingers. And if I run out of fingers, I'll switch to ribs. Are we clear?'

'Yeah.'

'What,' she moved closer now, her mouth right by his ear, 'was going through your mind when you even considered laying a finger on him?'

'I dunno. Maybe I'm just that crazy.' A grin.

'And that justifies you in torturing my son?'

'No, ma'am.' This time, he sounded bored.

'What was he talking about?'

'I don't know.' A smirk, not that Ariana saw it. With one hand perched on the back of the chair, she leaned forward and took Proton's right hand. She took a moment to examine his nails, torn and chewed down so far that no dirt could stay trapped underneath them. Her own fingers, complete with carefully maintained crimson talons, wrapped around his middle finger. She pulled back sharply, then twisted for good measure. Proton flinched, but remained silent.

'Try again.'

'Maybe I said something to him once. Threatened him a bit. Would've taught him a lesson.'

'Wrong answer, honey.' Ring finger. Snap, twist.

'What do you want to hear then? I used him to help me dissect Pokémon in the bathroom?' He laughed when Ariana cracked his little finger. 'Threatened him a bit. Told him I'd hurt him if he told. I never laid a finger on him.'

'Until tonight. Why?'

'Because I'm tired.'

'What?' Ariana's fingers found Proton's pointer and positioned themselves.

'Everything is grating every fucking nerve in my fucking body. Everything. I almost slit Archer's throat because he had the audacity to be asleep when I got back. Didn't even have the decency to stay awake.'

'What?'

'He wanted a report. I had a fucking report, and an idea, and he wasn't fucking awake to listen.' Ariana's grip loosened at those words, leading Proton's hand to rest on the table.

'Don't move,' she sighed.

After watching the entire ordeal from around the corner, Silver returned to his room silently, unnoticed.

###

Petrel fumbled with his lighter, clicking it over and over before it lit his cigarette. He'd failed. They all had. All he could think about was what could have happened had things gone differently. He sat down on the couch next to Archer, leaning back into the corner. He was exhausted.

'Petrel?'

'What?'

'Wake up.'

'I'm awake,' he mumbled, the cigarette not leaving his lips.

'Look at this.'

'At what?'

'Just look.' Petrel wasn't in the mood for Archer's orders, but he sat forward, on the edge of the couch, staring.

'What's in the bag?'

'You tell me.' He took the top of the bag from Archer, and glanced inside. 'How much?'

'About fifteen million. Maybe more.'

'This is Proton's idea. What do you think?'

'Slowpoketails?' Profitable, very profitable. Need to find a market for them. Harvest is slow, the tails take a couple of days to grow back so you're getting maybe three a week. It's a lot of money with even that, but it's not worth the time and effort.'

'Slowpoke Well.'

'What about it?'

'Take it over, harvest on site, move the tails to sell. That's his idea.'

'Fuck,' Petrel swore under his breath.

'What?'

'The guy's a fucking genius. I hate saying it, Archer, but he is.'

'I was saying the same thing to Ariana the other day. What do you think?'

'It's three in the morning. Just tell me what you want me to do.'

'Sell them. I'll clean them, but you sell. Whatever disguise you like so long as it isn't one you've used before.'

'Yeah, okay,' Petrel agreed. He noticed that his cigarette was almost burnt down; he held it out to Archer. 'Take this, I'm going to bed.' Archer took the cigarette and gave a nod. He didn't stand up until Petrel was in the other room. He took a drag on the cigarette and exhaled as he moved into the kitchen. He pulled out one of the other chairs and sat down opposite Proton, then dropped the butt into the ash tray.

'Well, what did she do to you?'

'Fuck off,' Proton hissed. Ariana was tending to his hand, binding his fingers together. Ring to pinky, middle to pointer. She was almost done, and was putting a final layer of bandages around all four fingers to hold them in place.

'Hold still or I'll set them crooked.'

'I am.'

'You're not.'

'There,' Ariana said, returning Proton's hand to the table. She pushed her own chair out and stood up to collect some ice from the freezer.

'Thanks,' Proton muttered, his comment almost inaudible.

'Where's Petrel? We've got business to discuss.'

'Went to bed,' Archer answered. She glared at him, waiting for a better response. 'Can we all just go to bed and deal with this in the morning?'

'Fine,' she agreed, her lips tight. Her eyes fell to Proton. 'You'll want to keep the ice on for twenty minutes. You're sleeping on the couch.'

###

She woke the next morning to find Silver curled up in the top corner of his bed, blankets pulled high, and Houndoom wrapped around behind him. She tried reaching over to move the sheets back from his face but the fire Pokémon snarled and snapped at her fingers. With a sigh, she stepped out of the room, the boy left to wake in his own time. The kitchen was already full by the time she arrived to take her place in the final chair.

'What happened to your hand, sweetie? It looks painful.'

'Fuck off, bitch,' Proton glowered at her from across the table. Petrel, to his left, ignored their exchange and focused on blowing smoke rings at the ceiling. They were more like ovals today, or else fell apart early. He was too distracted. Ariana watched as Archer sorted through the papers spread all over the table, unsure of their contents.

'Right,' Archer said without looking up, 'we've got a lot to do in the next twenty four hours. Proton, your idea. Go.'

'Take over Slowpoke Well, hack their tails off, sell them at reduced cost. We'll sell thousands if they're only ten grand a piece. Simple.'

'Well, we've already got fifteen. I cleaned them up this morning and they're ready to sell. That's a hundred and fifty grand by tonight if we sell them all. Petrel, that's you. Start with the Underground Tunnel, you get people through there that are loaded. You know how to spot them better than anyone. Be ready to leave in forty minutes.'

'Sir,' Petrel nodded. It was almost, _almost_, like the old days when Archer gave orders so specific. They had a mission, after all, and if this small step went right, then everything else would just fall into place. As long as he was in disguise, Petrel felt at ease out in the open. Today was going to be a good day, he could feel it. At the very least, it could only be better than the previous one.

'Proton, I'm sending you back to Azalea for the day.'

'Why?'

'I want a population count. We need to know how sustainable this is, how many we can sell every three days. I don't need a maximum, just a minimum. Leave as soon as you can.'

'Fine,' Proton rolled his eyes, but the tapping of his fingers on the tabletop gave away more than he thought. He was excited, anxious to begin. It was his plan, his idea. They were listening to him and he loved every second of it. He could already imagine the congratulations he would get when their leader returned.

'Ariana, you're here. You know what to do.' She nodded.

'I'll be with Petrel, just in case,' Archer continued. He finally looked up from his papers. 'Since you can only carry three at a time, you'll be back and forth. I'll tail you to make sure no one else is. Is everyone clear on their orders?' It was a pointless question. This was something they could have pulled off in their sleep; Giovanni didn't promote anyone unable to keep up with his demands and the Executives had proven their worth time and time again. Petrel was the first to stand, then Proton. Ariana rose next, and paused to kiss the top of Archer's head.

'Good luck.'

'You'll need it more.'

Had the previous day been any different, she would have laughed. Instead, she forced a smile and followed after Petrel; it had been a while since he'd needed such heavy disguise, he would probably need some help with the makeup. Archer, always one to pick up on the smallest of sounds, turned his head to find Silver standing halfway between the door and the fridge.

'Don't talk to me.'

'Excuse me?'

'I just want breakfast.'

'Help yourself.'

'I said don't talk to me.' Silver gave a scowl, one that would have made Giovanni proud. He grabbed the milk and took a pack of cookies from cupboard, along with a bowl of leftover rice and chicken from two days earlier. He started back towards his room, but stopped and moved a little closer to the table. 'I want a favour.'

'Can I talk to you?'

'…just for now.' Silver agreed. He tried to brush his hair back from his face, but his hands were full. He put the milk on the table long enough to fix it.

'Well, what do you want?'

'Houndoom.'

'Okay,' Archer agreed. 'He can stay here today.'

'And tomorrow. Until I say.'

'What if I need him?'

'Only if it's important Team Rocket stuff.' Silver said. 'And don't tell anyone I talked to you, because I'm not talking to them. Or you, after right now.'

'Okay,' Archer said again; it was easy to give in to the boy's wishes now, while he wasn't asking for much. Silver broke into a run when he heard footsteps from the other direction, disappearing from the room just before Ariana returned. 'I think you've got a problem.'

'Hmm?' She sat down opposite him. 'What kind of problem?'

'One with your hair, his father's tenacity, and an attitude that's only going to get worse when the hormones kick in.'

'What's he done now?'

'He's not talking to us, any of us actually, and he's keeping Houndoom until he says I can have him back.'

'He's going to need a few days to get over what happened last night,' Ariana suggested, although Archer was sure she hadn't even convinced herself with that one.


	5. Chapter 5

Giovanni had told her, when Silver was less than three months old, that she was never to tell him she was his mother. A mere Grunt at the time, she had been swiftly promoted to Admin when she gave up her rights. Other Grunts had been chosen to help raise the boy and they had, in turn, been promoted for their services. It broke her heart to do it, but she was young, and had been promised more power in return. Her heart broke every time Silver cried for his father, when he wished for a mother, when all he wanted was parents like he saw on television shows. But now, at nine years old, he was breaking her heart all over again. It had been four days since he had spoken to her, and three since he had even looked in her direction. Every time she asked if he was hungry, if he was cold, if he needed anything, his only response was silence.

###

'I don't know what to do anymore,' she said. She had no idea if Archer was awake – he'd come in and turned the lights off well over an hour earlier. The third bed had been moved back to the living room; Petrel had moved it when he caught Silver trying to do it on his own.

'About?' Archer's reply was slow, slurred. He'd more than likely been half asleep until she spoke.

'He won't even look at me.'

'Why?'

'Why do you think?'

'I don't know, why?'

'Archer, he watched me stand there and let Proton choke him, threaten him with a knife, and remind him of something that happened years ago, and I'm never going to find out what that was.'

'Can you blame him then?'

'Are you serious?'

'So he hates you. He's a kid. They all do that. You hate your parents, I hate mine, he hates his. Big deal.'

'You really don't care, do you?'

'I'm just saying that he's a child.'

'I've never thought I was a terrible mother. You know I am, you've been there for it all. I lied to him, crushed his dreams, helped sabotage his relationship with his father. Those are all the things you're not supposed to do. I've done everything wrong, and now, he's pure hatred and he's only nine.'

'Are you done?'

'What?'

'Are you finished?'

'Fuck you, Archer, all you had to do was lie and say he'll get over it,' she snapped; she had no one else to talk to about these things and Archer was dismissing her concerns as if they were nothing.

'He won't get over it. If you're lucky he'll talk to you before the end of the year.'

She didn't respond then, just stared at the dark ceiling. He was right, and she knew it. As much as she loathed herself for it, she wanted someone else to say that it would work out in the end; Silver was all she had. If Giovanni never returned, if they couldn't find a way to get a message to him, if he ignored them, Silver was it. Then, Archer's hand found hers, and it took everything she had to hold back the tears. She was weak, she acknowledged that, but she refused to fall as low as pathetic.

###

Petrel sat down on the couch, cigarette in hand, waiting for the inevitable moment where Silver told him to go away. Seconds passed, then minutes, and the boy just sat there. He was staring at the television watching the news with Houndoom on his lap. Proton had been gone for five days, Archer and Ariana for four. Petrel had been happy enough to stay behind. His last mission had been a success and they now had almost two hundred thousand dollars to show for it. Proton had been sent to the well again, to track the populations and regrowth more carefully. Archer had set off to find them a place to sell the Slowpoketails, and had taken Ariana along with him.

'Don't lie.'

'You're telling me what to do?' Petrel joked, but Silver's expression was foreboding.

'Don't lie.'

'Okay, no lies. What's up?'

'Why didn't you help me?'

'Look, kiddo,'

'_Don't. Lie._'

'Hey, shut up and let me finish. Proton doesn't like people telling him what to do. If I'd told him not to kill you, he probably would have done it because he doesn't take orders from anyone.'

'He listens to Archer.'

'Yeah, because Archer's last order was to give the orders. Proton knows that. He doesn't like it.'

'You're not going to lie, are you?' Silver asked, presumably accepting Petrel's answers.

'No lies unless it's about shit I'm under orders not to tell you about.'

'Like what?'

'Just said I can't tell you. But no lies unless there's an order to.'

'Wait, if Archer's got orders from my dad, and my dad is my dad and he's not here, then I'm kind of him, aren't I?'

'What's your point?' Petrel put out his cigarette then, pushing it under the edge of the couch; he'd blame it on someone else later.

'If I order you not to lie, you can't lie, can you?'

'Better get to the point soon, kiddo, I'm getting hungry.'

'Did you know that Ariana is my mother?'

'Can't tell you that.'

'You did!' That scowl again, it tore through Petrel, a reminder of all the mistakes he'd been reprimanded for in the past. 'Why did everyone lie?'

'Hey, slow down,' Petrel had to remind himself the boy was only nine, he had to choose his words carefully – this was the first time Silver had spoken to anyone in almost two weeks. 'There's a lot of reasons, that was a big secret to keep.'

'Did my dad say it was a secret?'

'Yeah.'

'Oh.' Silver sunk back into the corner of the couch, almost hidden underneath a snoozing Houndoom. 'You didn't have to listen.'

'Did you ever not listen to your dad?'

'No,' he pouted.

'All I can tell you is that she feels like shit now that you're not talking to her.'

'I'm not talking to her because she likes Proton more. She broke his fingers because he tried to kill me and then she fixed them and said sorry. She lied forever and then did that, I don't want her to be my mother because she's bad at it.'

'You sure?'

'Yes.'

'Really?'

'I'm not talking to her again. And I don't want to talk to you anymore. Go away.'

'Liar,' Petrel grinned.

'Now!'

'Okay, I'm going, see?' Petrel stood up to leave the room. 'Just tell me when you want some lunch.' He tried to leave but Houndoom cut him off, allowing Silver to flee back to his bedroom; the door slammed, the conversation was over.

It was two hours before Silver left his room, stalking quietly around the apartment; bathroom, kitchen, back to bedroom. Petrel ignored him, and continued to ignore him for the next three days. It was the easiest time he'd ever had looking after the child. He told Ariana as much when she returned, but she did not see the humour. Her face fell at the news of Silver's decision.

'Just do it now,' she said, lips pressed tightly together. Archer nodded; she was grasping at straws, hoping that by seeing him as soon as they got back, Silver would come around faster.

###

Archer gave a polite but unnecessary knock before he walked into the far bedroom. Silver was sitting on the floor reading, Houndoom still by his side.

'Go away,'

'That doesn't work on me. It might have worked on Petrel, but not me. Are we clear?'

'You're not my boss.'

'What's your rank?'

'I don't have one. I don't need one.'

'Prove that I'm not your boss then.'

'You're just not.'

'You're a Grunt.'

'I am not.'

'Prove it.'

'I can't.'

'Well, I'm glad we cleared that up. Now,' Archer said, standing beside Silver. Houndoom gave a playful bark when he scratched behind his ears. 'we've got some things to talk about.'

'Go away!'

'First of all, you need to learn how to speak to your superiors.'

'You're not my boss!'

'I just told you you're a Grunt. What am I?'

'A jerk.' All it took was a raised eyebrow from Archer for the fire Pokémon to start digging his claws into Silver's thigh. 'Hey! Stop it!'

'What's my rank?' Archer asked again, cool as ever.

'Executive!'

'Good. So we've established that I'm your boss. When I speak to you, you answer. When anyone else with a higher rank speaks to you, you answer. Are we clear?' Silver nodded, tears pricking at his eyes from the sharp pain in his leg.

'Yes,' he sniffled.

'Good. Now close your eyes and do _not _open them until I leave this room.'

'Okay.'

'Okay what?'

'Okay, sir,' Another sniffle. Silver closed his eyes and hiccoughed as he heard Houndoom leaving with Archer; the door closed, he was alone. He wiped his face with the back of his sleeve, still trying to properly catch his breath. He opened his eyes, slowly, still blinking back tears. Then, through blurred vision, he saw it. A small, familiar red and white object on the floor where Archer had been standing. A Pokéball. He leant forward and snatched it up, examining it carefully. He wanted to open it, desperately, but without knowing what was inside he was hesitant. He stood, the Pokéball clutched in his fist, and slowly opened his bedroom door.

'What is it?' He demanded, lifting himself up onto one of the kitchen chairs. Archer stared at him. 'Sir.'

'It's a Pokémon. It's yours, if you want it.'

'Why?'

'We don't take on Grunts without giving them a Pokémon.'

Silver put the Pokéball down on the table and stared at it, still unwilling to open it.

'Why are you giving me one?'

'You're old enough.'

'I'm nine.'

'Team Rocket has always welcomed anyone, despite their…' Archer trailed off as his eyes came to rest on Proton, polishing his knives. 'Flaws.'

'I'm nine,' Silver said again.

'I was eight when I convinced the girl next door to jump from the roof of the Celadon Department Store.'

'I could pick locks by ten,' Petrel added.

'I knew how to control everyone by the time I was your age,' Ariana said; Silver ignored her. Proton rolled his eyes from his place by the sink.

'I killed my brother when I was four.' Ariana gave him her most threatening glare, but he shrugged it off. 'What? I thought we were having some bullshit share your fucked up childhood moments so we could make him feel like his is less shitty.'

'The point is,' Archer sighed. 'You're old enough, and if you take that Pokémon and prove you can train it, you'll have your own job to do within the year.'

'That's too long.'

'Six months. Petrel will teach you.'

'Teach me what?'

'Everything a Grunt needs to know.'

'…okay,' Silver finally agreed. He grabbed the Pokéball again and slid down off his chair. 'But I'm still not talking to Ariana. Tell her.' He ran off after that; he had better things to do than stand around being yelled at. He'd spent his entire life around Rocket Grunts and he knew what they were like. They were weak, they craved power and acceptance. He was one of them now, the first in Johto. He had work to do.


	6. Chapter 6

The first few days had been difficult. Despite having spent so much time with trainers and their Pokémon, Silver had found adjusting to his own more challenging than he had expected. Perhaps it was because the Sneasel was still wild, not used to working as a team, or maybe it was his own fault; he was young, he gave bad commands and the Pokémon was smarter than that. It wasn't until he had shouted a vague, 'just kill it!' out of frustration that Sneasel was victorious against the Pidgey two days earlier. Petrel had seen the look on his face then, a look of joy, delight, one that reminded him the boy was Giovanni's son and that battling skills were sure to develop swiftly. He sat down next to Silver in the tall grass, and handed him a bottle of juice.

'Here,' he said as he lit a cigarette. 'You've had a tough morning.'

'Not really,' Silver shrugged. It was getting easier now that almost a week had gone by. He watched Sneasel flit around in the grass a short distance away as he drank the juice. 'It's December.'

'So?'

'So I'll be ten soon.'

'Have we ever forgotten?'

'My dad never remembers.'

'I wasn't talking about him.'

'No,' Silver pouted. 'But I don't want anything this year. No cake, no presents, no nothing.'

'You're still mad at Ariana.'

'I'm never talking to her again.'

'Silver,'

'_Never_.'

'Hey, I know most of what we've been teaching you is how to lie properly, but that was shocking. You don't stay mad forever, it just doesn't happen.'

'I'm really mad,' Silver said, quietly. He tossed the empty bottle aside. 'Like, angry. I hate her more than my dad for disappearing. And I get more angry when I see her or when she talks to me and it makes it worse. I don't like it. I never hated her before and now I do and I'm angry, all the time.'

'Welcome to life, kiddo. Everyone's angry at something. Look at Proton. Wait, he's a bad example.'

'Why? He seems angry. He's good at hurting – _people, Pokémon_ – things.'

'He's not angry, he's bored.'

'He's bored so he kills people?'

'Not kills, really.'

'No he does. I know that.'

'Okay fine, he does sometimes. He's getting better at not killing them, but he's not angry, he's just broken.'

'How?'

'Look, his brain is too smart and he's a violent person. When he gets bored, which is most of the time, he forgets how to control that.'

'So he tried to kill me because he was bored? I didn't think he hated me.'

'It's not hate that makes him do things,' Petrel said; they were well off topic and he had no idea if he should be discussing these things with the boy. 'I don't know. All you have to know is that he's not a good example because his brain doesn't work the way most people's brains do.'

'Oh,' Silver accepted that and watched as Sneasel flew back to him, hovering in the air for a moment before landing back on the grass. 'What's that?' The Pokémon dropped a strange gold object to the ground, then made a cheerful purring noise. He reached out and picked it up, turning it over in his hands. 'I don't know what it is,' he said, forcing the object in Petrel's direction.

'Nugget. Worth a lot.'

'Give it back!'

'Where was I going?' Petrel tossed the nugget back to the ground beside Silver. 'Put it away, we can sell it tomorrow.'

'Why tomorrow?'

'We'll do a disguise.'

'Why?'

'Where'd you get the nugget?'

'Sneasel found it.'

'And where'd he get it?'

'I dunno, the ground?'

'Wrong. Unless you know where it came from, it's probably stolen. Where'd you get it?'

'Sneasel.'

'Where'd he get it?'

'What?'

'Get out of my shop,' Petrel said, grinning as he imitated the man from the Department Store. He flicked away the end of his cigarette. 'Try again. Where'd you get it?'

'My uncle gave it to me for my birthday three years ago.'

'Better. Why're you selling it?'

'My dad doesn't have a job anymore and we need the money.'

'Great, better again. Fuck me if I know I'll hide your hair though.'

'Why?'

'How many other nine year old boys do you know in this city with hair like yours?'

'I don't know any other nine year old boys.'

'See?'

'No.'

'You stand out. We're doing disguises to sell that thing.'

'Okay, okay. You promised you'd show me how to pick locks next.'

'I said when you got your Sneasel to level 20.'

'He's 16 already!'

'Level 20, then locks.'

'Fine,' Silver scowled as he got to his feet. Sneasel flew up into the air above his head and sped forward, back out into the open grass of Route 35. 'Come on, you've got Ice Punch, I want to see you use it! Practice your speed, okay?' Petrel watched as the boy gave his commands and how the Pokémon listened to everything, every word, after less than a week of training together.

###

When Archer heard his name, it sounded distant, garbled. He was lightheaded and when he tried to scratch the itch on his knee, he found that his hands wouldn't – couldn't – move. He flexed his wrists and found them bound with electrical tape, tied firmly behind his back. It took far longer than it should have for him to realise that he was, in effect, tied to one of the kitchen chairs. He heard his name again then, closer this time, right by his ear. He laughed. There were two people who could have been responsible for this, but the throbbing in his head and a vague recollection of a surprisingly kind gesture cleared up the situation for him.

'What was in the beer?' he asked, his words slurring.

'Secret,' Proton said. He was leaning forward with his elbows on Archer's shoulders, flicking a switchblade open and closed, over and over, in his left hand.

'What's your problem now, Executive?'

'Well, _Boss_, which one? Be specific.'

'Why was I drugged then taped to this chair?'

'That's a good story,' Proton moved then, so he was leaning back against the edge of the counter. He swapped the switchblade for one of his throwing knives and tossed it at the dartboard across the room. 'Fuck!'

'What's wrong with a double twenty?'

'It's not a triple.'

'It's still a double.'

'Shut up! I can't concentrate!'

'Tell me the story,' Archer said, rolling his eyes. He had more important things to do than indulge Proton for the afternoon. There was paperwork to forge, to sign, buildings to acquire. He and Ariana had their eyes on an old shop in Mahogany that would be perfect for distributing the Slowpoketails; it had an expansive underground warehouse attached.

'The short version is that you were getting on my nerves last night.'

'Go on.'

'Long version, fuck you,' Proton spat, sending another knife flying towards the board. Another double. 'Fuck! What the fuck are you playing at?'

'I don't know what you mean,' Archer said calmly.

'With the boy! He'll get in the way!'

'If you recall, Giovanni left me in charge. I decided he was ready to begin training as one of us. In the event that something has happened, he will have a large role to play in the future of this organisation.'

'He's a _child_!' Proton threw his third and final knife at the board; he missed, the blade embedding itself into the plaster. 'Fuck! You're an idiot, the last thing we need is him getting in the way!' Archer had expected a blow of some kind to follow Proton's outburst. A slap, a punch, a slash; any of these he would have expected. He wasn't prepared for the next move. He had no way of predicting it, let alone preventing it. The kitchen chair came down, hard, striking him in the back of the head. He heard himself shout out in pain, saw the blood drip from his hanging head. His head spun and his vision blurred – he was certain he had passed out for a moment or two. The pain was unbelievable. He could still hear screams and it took minutes for him to work out they couldn't be his. Proton. They were Proton's screams.

'What?' Archer managed to get the word out in between jagged breaths.

'My fucking _fingers_!' Proton spat, sitting down in the chair beside him.

'They're broken.'

'No fucking shit!'

'You fucked them up, didn't you?' A cough; blood.

'That _bitch _fucked them up!'

'Too much backlash from the chair,' Archer coughed again, more blood dribbling from his lips. 'Where is she?'

'Fucking asleep. Gave her a stronger dose,' Proton was searching through the freezer by then, looking for the ice.

'Why?'

'Because you have no fucking idea what goes on in my fucking head every _fucking_ day!' He sat up on the edge of the table, using Archer's knees as a footrest. 'Don't bleed on me.'

'I'll try to stop.'

'Good,' he said. The bandages were loosened and removed so he could apply the ice, but not without a wince of pain. Slowly, he tried to flex his fingers but the joints were stiff and still very much broken.

'Why did you join?'

'What?'

'Team Rocket. Why?'

'Legitimised violence. Payrise. Like-minded individu – shit.'

'What?'

'Fucking fingers. Bitch needs to wake up soon so she can set them again.'

'She will.'

'Hope so. Lied before, gave her too much.'

'Fuck, if she doesn't, you're explaining it to the boy,' Archer said. He could feel the blood starting to clot, staining his clothes, the floor.

'He won't care. She's lost him.'

'He always comes around.'

'It's in his fucking eyes, Archer,' Proton snapped. He shifted the ice. 'You've been too fucking busy for weeks to see it. He looks at her the way you look at Grunts. Any respect he had? Gone. She fucked up, he found out. She's already dead to him, and it's killing her.'

'We'll see,' Archer said. Despite the pain in his head, neck, spine, he knew Proton was right. Silver was the product of two damaged parents and an erratic childhood. Cared for by criminals, liars, and sociopaths, he was never going to amount to anything of benefit to society. Fuelled by spite and hatred, his teenage years were off to the worst of beginnings.

'Keep him busy.'

'What?' Archer tried, slowly, to lift his head for the first time since the chair had struck him.

'Keep him busy. It worked on me for a year before I worked it out. He's younger and stupider, it'll take him longer,' Proton said. He tried to re-bandage his fingers but they were too loose, and uncomfortable. He moved a foot then, toes under Archer's chin to hold his head up. 'If you don't keep him busy, his head will be twice as fucked up as mine within the year.'


	7. Chapter 7

Silver woke with a start; he couldn't breathe. He opened his eyes, lazily, to find himself staring at Proton. The pressure of the blade at his throat lessened.

'What?' He choked the word out, struggling to catch his breath.

'Get up, Archer wants to see you.'

'It's my _fucking_ birthday,' Silver swore. Proton was taken aback – Silver never swore at him, at least not to his face.

'Yeah, big deal, you're eleven, get over it. Archer still wants to see you.'

'You could've woken me up like a normal person.'

'No fun in that.'

'I still hate you.'

'Feeling's mutual.'

'Good,' he said, dragging himself out of bed; Proton stared at him, not used to his threats being ignored. 'Hey, you,' Silver added. Sneasel's ears pricked at his trainer's voice and followed the boy out of his bedroom.

Progress had been made in the previous year, so much progress that none of the Executives could fully comprehend that they were finally able to begin the final stages of their mission to find Giovanni. As soon as the store had opened in Mahogany just after the previous Christmas, the profits had come rolling in. It had been the first step to their return, stronger than ever. The Grunts had been replaced, warehouses acquired. They had spies all over Johto working for them. Everything had fallen into place. With their workload as full as it was, even Proton had been kept busy; they had only had to deal with one incident where he had bludgeoned a child to death. Evidence had been disposed of, the body burnt. They were ready to swoop in on the Radio Tower when everything else was in place.

He stood in the doorway to the kitchen and propped himself against the frame. Sneasel settled himself on top of the fridge.

'Silver,' Archer said from the table. Ariana smiled at him.

'Executive,' he nodded in acknowledgement of Archer's greeting, but ignored his mother's. Her face fell.

'I've got your assignment here.'

'Really?'

'Take it, read it.'

'Sir,' Silver said, stepping forward to snatch the paper from Archer's hand. 'Is that all?'

'Yes. You have an hour to prepare.' Archer finally looked up from his paperwork then. 'Do not fail.'

'I won't.' He turned to leave then, Sneasel speeding out of the room after him. His bedroom door slammed when they were both inside. 'Let's see,' he muttered. He'd waited over a year for this; his first real assignment, unaccompanied by anyone else. He'd been involved in cons with Petrel, break-ins with Proton. He'd been a decoy for Archer's more important missions in recent months. But they had never sent him out on his own before and he didn't care what the job was; he was in. He was a Rocket, finally on his way up. He shared many of their ambitions but their ultimate goal of finding Giovanni? His motives were different. He didn't want to see his father return to his place as head of Team Rocket. He didn't mind, but that wasn't why he was searching for him. He wanted to see him, just once more in his life, so he could prove he was worth more attention than he had ever received from the man. He was better than that.

Silver flipped the paper over in his hands. The directions were simple, written in Archer's familiar scrawl. Elm Research Lab, New Bark Town. Get in, get out, take what you can. I want data.' It didn't take Silver an hour to prepare. He said goodbye to Archer, Petrel, and even to Proton on his way out, the front door slamming to indicate their youngest Grunt had left.

'How long until he realises there's really no point?' Ariana asked; Archer's leg pressed up against hers under the table.

'How long until we do?'

'They're coming back, Archer,' she said, making almost no effort to hide the fury in her voice. 'Both of them.'

Petrel walked in then, and sat down in the only empty chair. The four Executives sat together, quietly, waiting for the unknown.


End file.
